Missed Connections
by OctoberJune
Summary: Just one moment on a morning subway lingers with the passengers all day. Will a post online bring her back? ***One-shot***


**I don't know if any of you have heard of MISSED CONNECTIONS, but it is a section of Craigslist and a blog run by Sophie Blackall. MISSED CONNECTIONS is basically a site that allows you to meet someone, or re-meet someone, you had a connection with, but only for a second. The publishing house I work for is printing the book called MISSED CONNECTIONS due out in the fall, and I find the idea of the whole blog/website enchanting. **

**I have decided to write a one shot depicting a missed connection. I do not own the characters of Grey's Anatomy or the idea behind MISSED CONNECTIONS, but I am intrigued and entertained by both.**

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><p>Derek waited behind the yellow line as he was instructed, but it didn't stop him from leaning forward and staring down the tunnel, hoping for a pair of yellow lights to be headed his way. He wasn't late, yet, but if the train didn't arrive in the next minute-and-a-half, he would have to explain to his boss – again – that while not always reliable, the subway was the only way he could get to work. He wasn't going to take a cab everyday from the Upper (upper, upper, upper) West Site (fine, Harlem, but Derek would never admit it) Downtown, because that would cost a hundred a week, if not more. They would both have to just accept the fact that Derek would be late some days. Still, he wanted the train to show up.<p>

Leaning against the elevator alcove was a man, presumably drunk, muttering religious songs to himself. Derek heard "God," "Jesus," and "holy, holy, holy" too many times to count. The man was dressed in tattered, muddied jeans, a gray tee shirt, an oversized button down shirt, and a heavy red jacket. The jacket was unnecessary; it was summer; but Derek had once heard that most of the homeless in New York carry everything on their backs to prevent stealing. A cup sat directly to his left and in scratchy, jumbled handwriting he had written "Please save my soul. I am a Veteran and am hungry. Will sing for food." Derek never handed money to people who were homeless. He didn't know how or why someone got to that point, but for all Derek knew, they were spending the money on cocaine and scotch and he wasn't interested in being an instigator. That and Derek barely made enough money as it was.

The 2 train clanked along the track and paused briefly, only leaving enough time for men and women in business suits, parents with young, backpacked children, and teenagers dragging themselves toward another day of school to exit and the same mosh of people to enter. The crowd for the 1 was growing considerably. Derek toed the yellow line, not willing to let anyone shove him out of the way. But the train did not come. Overhead, a garbled announcement pierced the noisy platform, but Derek didn't catch a word. After, people turned to strangers and asked, "What did that just say?" but no one had an answer. All Derek knew, the train was running late.

After two more express trains, the 3 and the other the 2, Derek finally boarded a very, very crowded 1 train. At Christopher Street, only a handful of people exited and nearly double entered, creating an uncomfortable situation with Derek sandwiched between two men and with his nose practically buried in a woman's frizzy, dark brown hair. Luckily, next stop was Houston Street and almost everyone exited. Derek relaxed and crossed to the other side of the subway, away from the frequently opening doors.

Just before the doors slammed closed, a blur of yellow, cream, and white jumped through the opening and landed safely on the other side. The blur took shape of a young woman – college-aged, if not a little bit older – with long, dirty blond hair. Her pale skin was exposed on her face, arms, hands, neck, chest, and legs, but the rest of her was wrapped in a simple, white dress, decorated at the top and bottom with a thin strand of lace. Her feet were adorned with plain, black flip flops and over her shoulder a purple shoulder bag was slung. She smiled, but only to herself, and took hold of the pole closest to the door.

For the next two stops, Derek watched her sway to the motion of a subway car moving. She kept her left hip pressed into the pole, her small, arching back facing Derek. Her head was bowed, and in the reflection, Derek saw the book in her hands. With each pull or shift of the train, her hip released its hold on the pole, and floated freely until the train jolted into movement again and it slammed back into place. Her movements looked like well-choreographed dancing, with her hips rising and falling, her feet shuffling left and right and left again, and her hands alternating between turning the pages of her book and holding on.

At Chambers Street, people flood off and on the train. The woman crossed to Derek's side of the train and placed her hand below his on the pole and pressed the bottom of her book into her ribs to keep it steady and from falling from her hand. Up close, Derek was allowed to fully take in her beauty. Her soft hair framed her round face and showcased her lovely, slim jaw and sweeping cheekbones. Her thin nose was dotted in freckles and her eyelashes curved along her porcelain skin. Two more people shoved onto the train and the woman was pushed in further. She shuffled forward, her graceful dance from before squashed by the amount of people around, and her toe kicked his polished shoe.

"Sorry," she said and looked up.

Derek was struck with beautiful, colorful, piercing eyes. At first he believed they were gray, but then he realized they were green with gray and blue flecks. Around each pupil was a single band of gold. Derek's mom had always called this trait a sunflower, since the black matched that of the seeded center of a sunflower and the gold matched the beautiful yellow petals of the flower.

The train jolted to a start and the woman stumbled to the left. Derek raised his hand, working on instinct, and halted her from knocking over a young child. "It's no problem," he said, replaying her raspy voice in his head. His hand barely brushed her bare arm, but even with the slightest touch, his skin felt different. She offered him a subtle, coy smile before returning to her book.

Derek didn't look away. He studied her, unabashedly and faithfully, taking in the small round studs in her ears and the freckle on her right shoulder. He watched her lick her lips after another page and bite her pinky nail through the entire page after that. Even with the cramped space, she continued to glide lightly from one foot to the other, and exchange hands to turn the page. Derek thought about offering to help her, but if he knew anything from living in New York, most people didn't want or need his assistance.

The train passed the next stop and glided effortlessly onto the next stop: Derek's stop. His heart hammered in his chest and he thought about the thousands of romantic gestures he could achieve before he lost her forever. He could pass her a note with his phone number, but had no paper. He could write it on her hand, but knew she would pull away and he would scare her. He could outright tell her that in the ten minutes he'd been watching her, he'd fallen in love with her. He could kiss her, hug her, touch her…but each scenario left her pulling away from him. All he wanted to do was let her know how she made him feel.

The train began to slow and in a moment of panic, Derek tilted her book upwards to read the binding. Amid orange and reds, the white letters of _The Sun Also Rises_ were delicately scripted along the binding. Derek smiled and met her inquisitive eyes. She did not pull away or say anything, even. She just watched him closely. Derek released her book and pulled his briefcase closer to his body. She continued to watch him and just as the train stopped, Derek said, "That's my favorite book ever."

People began to flush out of the train and Derek followed. He turned right before the doors shut and met her colorful eyes. "It's not my favorite yet, but it's getting there," she said and the doors shut between them.

**OOO**

Meredith stood breathless. Her chest was rising and falling and if it weren't for the four sets of eyes on her, she would have laid down for a quick rest. But they were watching and waiting. She pushed her arms out to the side and curtsied before righting herself into first position. After a moment, four sets of hands clapped lightly, in a restrained, calm sort of way, and heads nodded. The music continued to play in the background, but it hardly carried the tune Meredith had been playing in her head.

"Very good, Miss Grey," the stogy man on the far left said. He looked like a business man in his freshly pressed suit and green tie, but his robust, English voice and mannerisms reminded her of so many dancers of the past. He spoke with a clarity and sound so precise, that she was sure that inside his mind, he was dancing on the stage at Lincoln Center.

"Yes, very precise," a glasses-wearing woman replied with a nod. She glanced down at her stack of papers, "I understand you went to Tisch?"

Meredith nodded, "Yes. I graduated two years ago."

"And in that time, you were…" the man in the far right seat asked.

"I was studying under Priscilla LaDíon at Paris Opéra Ballet School."

"Miss LaD was a student of mine," the businessman said.

"Yes, sir, I believe she told me about your talents."

The foursome said nothing and Meredith waited anxiously. She knew it was difficult making it into any dance academy, but the American Ballet Company was especially hard. But her mind barely rattled over the anticipation. Instead, she thought of the man on the subway. She hadn't even noticed him until she stepped on his toe, but the second his blue, blue, blue eyes met hers, she felt her stomach contract in a familiar way. She looked away though, because spending the entire train ride staring at a man she would never see again would only be depressing.

However, at his stop he lifted her book and told her he loved _The Sun Also Rises_. With anyone else, she would have believed that it was just a line, but many factors added up that said it was not just a line to him. Firstly, he was about to get off the train, so it made no sense to admit his love of the book. Secondly, he smiled as he said it, making her believe that he liked telling her about his admiration. And thirdly, his eyes literally twinkled as he said it. He genuinely _loved_ that book. Meredith wished she had said something better – something more meaningful. She could have shouted out her telephone number to him or her email address or hell, even her Skype name, but she was frozen.

Now, after the most important four minutes of her life, all she could think about was the most meaningful thirty seconds she'd ever remembered having.

"Miss Grey, we'd like to have you join us next week at the company on 42nd. We know getting down here today was a pain, and we're happy you could make the trip. Hopefully the 42nd Street location will be easier for you."

"Yes, of course," her heart beat strongly in her chest. "When would you like me to come?"

The woman smiled. "We'll let you know on Friday."

Meredith nodded, said her thanks, and stepped from the small, stuffy dance studio. All the way on the 5 on her way back to the 1, Meredith thought about the blue-eyed stranger, and if he would simply ride the subway all day waiting for her.

**OOO**

Derek stared at the computer in front of him until his eyes went fuzzy. He grumbled, sighed, and pressed delete, delete, delete until only three words were left. Derek typed one, two, three…sixteen words, read them back, and delete, delete, delete. With a sigh he leaned back in his hair and stared at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Staring at the ceiling," Derek answered. "Why?"

"Well, we have the Sullivan meeting, well, uh, now," the voice said sarcastically and Derek bolted upright in his chair, "and you're in here napping."

"Shit," he said under his breath. "Why didn't you come and get me earlier, Mark?"

"Because I'm not your father." Derek paused, but only for a second. If it had been anyone but Mark, it would have gone unnoticed. "Sorry," Mark said sincerely. "But we really need to go."

The duo walked down the hall quickly; their leather shoes squeaked, groaned, and clicked with each step, making them louder than a stampede. Heads turned and whispers followed, but both men were used to it. Mark even embraced it. Derek tried to ignore the dull ache behind his eyes and focus on the meeting ahead, but his run-in with the beautiful woman on the subway had him confused, unfocused, and generally lovesick. Mark noticed.

"So what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Derek said.

"You're moping about something. Or should I say _someone_. Who is she?" Mark sighed.

"No one. Just this woman on the train this morning. She was-"

"Is that why you were late?"

"No, I was late because the 1 was late."

"So what was it about this girl?"

Derek shrugged. How can he explain her beautiful, light feet, and her graceful, soft limbs? He can't explain the colors encased in her eyes or the smile that graced her lips so many times in just a minute. By explaining it, he'd let the feeling and the memory be distorted by someone else, and he wasn't ready to risk something so important. "Nothing. She was just pretty." The lies burn on the way out, because she was far beyond pretty. She was beautiful.

**OOO**

"Look at this one," Cristina offers the computer to Meredith.

Meredith reads the ad, noticing the line about no laundry, fifth floor walk-up, and no super and pushes the computer back. "Too primitive."

"But the price is amazing."

"Yeah, because no one wants a fifth floor walk-up with no laundry and no super."

"It's the East Village though, Mer," Cristina said, as if it would change the downfalls of the apartment. Meredith shot her a narrow-eyed look and Cristina sighed. "Fine, let's see if there are any shares open. Maybe we'll luck out and there will be two bedrooms available in some already furnished apartment.

Meredith adjusted and reached for the computer. "Let me look."

Cristina lies on her back as Meredith clicked back once, twice, and lands on the homepage. The format is plain, but it gets the job done. Meredith glanced over furniture sales, car sales, and pet sales; she glanced over personal ads, sex ads, and rants and raves, and looked for apartments, when her eyes noticed a single line that read "missed connections." She glanced as Cristina, who seemed to be in her own world, and clicked on the link.

The plain look continued with a list of blue links. One said: "Columbian beauty outside duane reade on Hudson (30) – m4w." Another said: "Pregnant lady in elevator, Midtown (25) – m4w." And yet another, "Striking, thick, red-head, 7 train (29) – m4w." Meredith scanned the ads, not clicking any of them. They weren't for her. Many claimed undying love in the headline, while others just wanted a sexual encounter. Some are specific: "We met at Bleeker and 7th and you dropped your ice cream cone on my shoe," while others ambiguous, "You were on the A and you had blond hair." Some were absolutely romantic, "Someone like you should never be alone. I think I love you," while others were vulgar, "I'd love to taste between your legs."

Meredith read through the first page and clicked to the next. The first ad read, "It might have not been your favorite book this morning, but is it now?" In the parentheses was an age of 27 and in the location was "the 1 train, Houston Street." Meredith clicked on the link. The ad says: "I didn't tell you it was my favorite book because I wanted to get to know you. I do want to get to know you, but I wasn't trying a line on you. I genuinely love that book and I genuinely want to know you. If you're interested, I will be on the 1 at 5:00 PM tonight. Same car. Meet me."

**OOO**

The train passed Rector Street and part of Derek's spirit deflated. He shouldn't have put the ad up. No one ever read them, especially not a beautiful, grace, angel in white. Derek sighed and stopped watching the doors. There was hope that she'd get on at Houston Street, but he honestly didn't want to watch as the stop disappeared and she didn't get on. Stop after stop flew by and despite his reservations, he looked up just as they entered the Houston Street station. He walked to the other side of the train and watched as people shuffled on and off. He scanned the group, but saw only common blonds. The colorful eyes and beautiful jaw were nowhere to be seen.

He should have just asked her name and number.

The doors signaled their closure and Derek expected to see her leaping through again. The doors shut and she didn't stop them. The train continued and Derek settled his back against the doors for a long, lonely train ride.

After 34th Street and 42nd, he had pushed her from his mind. Of course he still thought of her smile and her freckles, but the hope was gone. He had allowed himself to think for only a moment, that he might see her the next morning, but he had never seen her before, so why would he start seeing her every day? Derek pulled his phone from his pocket and scanned his emails, needing something to distract him. In just twenty minutes, he would be on his couch drinking a beer, and he was happy to be nearly home.

The train stopped once more and people scurried on and off. Derek tucked himself away from the flow of people. As the train started, he felt something drop on his feet. Looking up at him was the orange and red copy of _The Sun Also Rises_ that he had seen earlier. He looked up.

"I got on the wrong car. I had to walk down two to get here," she said as an explanation.

Derek bent down and picked up the book. His was so abused; he hardly recognized her new, shiny copy. He handed it to her. "I think you dropped this."

She took the book and her finger brushed his. He met her eyes and knew the motion was on purpose. "Thank you. I'm Meredith," she offered her hand.

"Derek," he took her hand and shook it in three long pumps. He didn't release her hand. "I can't believe you saw the ad."

"Me neither. I've never been on that part of the site before. I just…had to click," she added with a sigh. "So, which stop is yours?"

Derek nodded as the train slowed. "This one."

"Oh," she mouthed and he saw the disappointment in her eyes.

Derek released her hand. Meredith shrugged and smiled politely. She tucked her book beneath her arm and took a step back. Derek realized she was not holding on. "There's a really good sandwich shop nearby and a park next to my house. Are you hungry?"

"Starved," she sighed with a smile.

"Then come on," Derek offered his hand.

Meredith wrapped her hand in his and followed him off the train.

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><p><strong>Fin.<strong>


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